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The Secrets In-Between Them | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Drama, Romance Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 46 Summary: Shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts Harry leaves Ginny again to finish off the last of Voldemort's regime. Ginny moves on with her life with a secret. After a chance encounter reunites them they're forced together again. Can they find a new path forward? Hitcount: Story Total: 114655; Chapter Total: 9661 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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5 years later: Harry Potter awoke in his tent with a start. After five years the memories still filled his head with dreams - dreams of the loss and the disaster the war had wrought on him. They no longer woke him. He’d grown used to them - Voldemort’s constant reminder of the internal scars he left behind. Harry did not wake from a nightmare today but by instinct, at sunrise, as he had done every day for the last five years. He let his mind wander briefly to the start where it began those years ago in Knocturne Alley, with the only person left he could think of as a mentor. When Harry entered the bar, The Dragonshire, he grew even more confused. Why had Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, summoned him from The Burrow so late? He had been lying in Ginny’s bed when the message arrived. He’d snuck in from Ron’s room when the rest of the house was asleep - and they had both worried the house would notice the noise of his Patronus coming from her room. Why Kingsley would ask him to come to Knocturne Alley was beyond him. He saw Kingsley waiting for him in a quiet booth in the back. “Kingsley,” Harry greeted him. “Why are we meeting here?” “The last place Rita Skeeter and the Daily Prophet would think to look for Harry Potter is a seedy bar in the back of Knocturne Alley.” Harry had to admit he had a point. The Daily Prophet had looked for him at every funeral, every memorial, every dedication in the last two months. They were like moths to his very unwilling flame. “How are you, Harry?” Kingsley asked. “I’m as good as anyone else, I imagine.” He was still wondering what they were doing there. “Harry, I’ll cut to the chase. I owe you that. Death Eaters everywhere are looking for you. The ones who were loyal to Voldemort - the true believers - they are regrouping. Determined to gather strength and continue his mission. Killing you is high on their priority list.” “Someone’s trying to kill me. Great. What else is new?” “Harry - I’m asking for your help.” “My help?” A small bubble of anger grew inside of him. “I died, Kingsley. Haven’t I done enough?” “I thought you had your sights set on being an Auror.” “That was before I spent a better part of a year wandering the countryside, half starved, destroying Horcruxes. I was hoping I’d earned some time off.” “Harry, I wish I could tell you we lived in a world where people got what they deserved.” There was no pity in his eyes, no apologies, only truth. “Nobody wanted this war, Harry, and nobody deserves to be asked what you were asked to do, but you are who you are.” Kingsley spoke with a candor Harry was not accustomed to after years of Dumbledore withholding so much information from him. “Harry, if the Death Eaters catch you and kill you, it would be the loss of our world’s greatest symbol of hope. The Ministry is going to have to hide you away, place you under every protection, and we are already stretched thin.” “And the alternative is... what? What do you want from me, Kingsley? To agree to your protection? Not put up a fight and put my life one hold?” “On the contrary, Harry,” Kingsley replied. “You’re seventeen, you’ve proven you can look out for yourself. I want you to go with my team of Aurors and hunt every last one of them down.” Harry sat speechless. This is not what he was expecting. “Harry, here’s the way I see it,” Kingsley’s bluntness continued. “Like it or not, you’re a figure in this world. You don’t want to join the Ministry and play politics, and to be honest, your security detail would be a nightmare. We can shut you away, but you’ll be miserable and if the Death Eaters find you they’ll proudly proclaim they pulled you from hiding where you were too cowardly to face them. Hunt them down - at least then if they kill you you’ll have gone down fighting, and the wizarding world will know you’re still fighting for them.” Harry already knew deep down what he was going to do, but there was still something he didn’t understand. “Why does the wizarding world care what I do?” Kingsley looked taken aback. “Please, Harry, you’re smarter than that. We need to move forward. These people, they need someone to believe in. When they see you fighting for a better world they’ll want to fight for it too.” Harry sighed. “Okay. When do we leave?” Harry threw the covers off and headed for the bathroom in his tent. His shirt off, he saw the long scars that ran down his arms and torso, battle scars from the hexes and curses that had been thrown at him, to match the scars inside from each loss and death he’d seen since the war began. Every scar had a story to tell. He sighed looking at himself in the mirror, thinking to himself it had been a long five years. With his tent packed and his wand out, he met his squad at the rendezvous point. He’d only been commander for a year but they had grown well together, developing a bond that was difficult to explain. They had all served with each other on other squads here and there before coming under Harry’s command and they had grown to rely on each other in a way only someone who’s fought alongside another in war would understand. They slept in tents for long months on the road, spent endless months on tedious work infiltrating and detangling the network of Voldemort’s curses. They’d taken curses for each other, and buried their friends together. This time there was a new anticipation in the air. After five long years of hunting and fighting they were here, in this field outside a quiet rural town, only an hour from London, prepared to take out the last known Death Eater. “Alright”, Harry said, preparing the customary speech a commander gives before leading his men into battle. “I want this tight and I want this fast. Dolohov is alone and he knows it. Everyone one else is either dead or in Azkaban, but that makes him even more dangerous. He has nothing left and he’s not afraid to be reckless. Jones, Cattamore, I want you in first to check for jinxes and traps. Followed by Craymore and Turson, I want you to have their backs. I’ll bring up the rear with Smith and we’ll bring him out. I want constant vigilance. I want every single one of you here home with your families tonight, understand?” “Yes, sir,” they all responded in unison, and together they Disapparated. They arrived at Dolohov’s hideout. a shack in the back of town. They didn’t need to get around the Fidelius Charm this time; there was no one left to be his Secret Keeper. As they moved towards the shack Harry felt the nerves pop up in his stomach and his heart beat faster. Focus, he said to himself. Focus. He pushed the nerves aside. Jones and Cattamore waved their wands and the door came crashing down. No sooner had they run inside did flashes of light erupt from all sides. Craymore and Turson dutifully ran in after. “Protego!” They shouted, putting up defensive shields around the men. Harry approached last. “Come out, Dolohov!” He shouted. “There’s nowhere else to run. You don’t need to die here today”. Dolohov came charging out, his wand pointed directly at Smith and in an instant, a flash of green light came flying towards him. Instinctively, Harry pulled them both down. An image of Smith’s three-year-old daughter flashed through Harry’s eyes and before he could even think, he was on his feet, his wand in the air. “Avada Kedavra” he yelled and Dolohov, a look of shock etched on his face, fell to the floor. The men let out a sigh of relief. Turson pulled Smith up, Cattamore and Jones had some cuts from the traps; Jones instinctively began healing spells. Harry sent a Patronus to the Ministry, telling them they needed to dispose of a body and search the shack. “Craymore, go check outside, make sure no Muggles saw the fight. If they did, wipe their memories.” Craymore nodded and was off. Harry looked around, a strange feeling overcame him. It wasn’t regret or guilt, Harry had used the Killing Curse before. After watching so many deaths and injuries he knew now what he didn’t when he was a teenager - that it was sometimes necessary to kill your enemies before they killed you, or worse. He knew no Death Eater would give him the courtesy of Stunning or Disarming first and he’d watched too many people die at their hands to hesitate to kill when necessary. But, Dolohov was the last of them. Those who followed Voldemort in hopes of gaining power or protection were easy. Many had turned themselves in and ratted each other out to get reduced sentences in Azkaban. But the true believers, those who desperately wanted a world where pure blood wizards could rule and Muggles served - they went into hiding. Plotted their next moves and terrorized Muggles when they could. Some of them hoped Voldemort would come back again and reward them for his loyalty. Others hoped they’d replace him. Harry and the other Aurors hunted every last one of them down. What will I do now, he wondered, now that Dolohov was gone? Craymore arrived back in the shack - “We’re all clear, sir.” Harry nodded. Cattamore and Jones were still bleeding. “Can you two Apparate?” Jones nodded. “Looks worse than it is, sir. The Auror healers will patch us up.” “Alright, back to the Ministry. Get your reports in and get home to your families. You all deserve the night off”. Craymore, Turson, Jones, and Cattamore Disapparated. Smith hesitated. “Sir, I... thank you.” “Don’t mention it, Gerald,” Harry responded, addressing his man by his first name. “Any one of you would have done the same for me.” Smith nodded and with a pop, Disapparated back to the Ministry. Harry looked around the shack, still unsure of the strange feeling inside of him. He would wait until the clean-up crew arrived and then return himself to debrief with Arthur Weasley, Kingsley, and Graven, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It would be good to see Arthur again. It had been months since he’d been at the Ministry, but when he was there they tried to get lunch and catch up. Harry walked around the shack while he waited. It was a decrepit little thing. Dolohov, the last of a wealthy pure blood wizard family, had all his money and property seized by the Ministry, much like the other Death Eaters, to pay for the damages caused by the war. He obviously ran here in haste, prepared to put up one last desperate stand. It was one room and a bathroom, and smelled of mildew and mold. The bed sagged. A lone couch sat before a crumbling fire. So, this is how your legacy ends, Harry thought, addressing the memory of Voldemort inside, your last supporter barely able to put up a fight. The last of Voldemort’s dark, twisted mark was gone. Not with a bang but a whimper. |
| Reviews 46 |
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